


Uno, Due, Tre

by The Aberrant (the_aberrant)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 21:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_aberrant/pseuds/The%20Aberrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A character study of Mukuro Rokudo that follows him throughout certain story arcs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uno, Due, Tre

 

**uno.**

_"for the good of the family, dears."_

_liars. don't lie to me._

they must take him for a fool. perhaps he is ten years too wise for a child, or at least, this is what they call him as they smother his cries. but he does not cry because he is afraid; he cries because he is furious.

_"don't tense your arm so much. now, stop your screaming. it's an honor to serve the estraneo famiglia with your bodies."_

_liars!_

it would be unwise to expend the limited oxygen that was being systematically pumped into his lungs. he has regained consciousness for the sixth time. five figures dance to and fro before his bleary eyes, all with a dull, throbbing pain in his right one. he cannot see that the iris has faded from a deep blue to a blood red. an inhuman screech comes from the bed as the small patient tethered to the white mattress tears the needles from the backs of his hands. the skin is a mottled and bloody mess, but he cares not. the bed sheets are dyed and steeped in the color of a rainbow's primary shade.

it's quite beautiful.

he felt nothing as he smothered their esophagi beneath his small and naked foot.

* * *

 

 

**due.**

he knows that they would lay down their lives for him. he laughs to himself; do they expect him to do the same?

**"what are humans to you?!"**

_**"hmm... toys, I suppose."** _

they willingly hand their wind–up keys to him alone. he stopped for them when no one else would even blink in their direction to acknowledge their suffering. even the owner of a tool must ensure that his items are not used beyond their limits. it is too expensive and time consuming to invest in others. he can arrange his figurines according to his own tastes, and he can mend or break them as he pleases.

yet, he has not grown weary of his toys. he dreads that they have endeared themselves to him. it is difficult not to be touched by their loyalty, but instead, he basks in the fact that they already know how high to leap when he asks them to jump.

he is the only one who understands the true meaning behind their suffering. beneath his gloves are matching scars, ugly and thick.

he is content. their times shall come, and he will crush them between his fingers as they gaze at him with adoration.

* * *

 

 

**tre.**

steel and metal sing through the empty building. it's a symphony in his ears. the whistling steel builds the flute section, and the percussive striking of trident against metal fists spell out the notes for the timpani. there is a faint hum in the air as the invisible strings that allow him to occupy one body to the next one vibrate in the air. the brass section has not been introduced yet; their intended victory fanfare is not to be introduced until measure seventy-three.

_**"what's the matter? let us begin."** _

one swing.

_**"what a beautiful, trusting relationship. interesting. that's fine by me."** _

two swings.

_**"i am going to have some goddamn fun with you!"** _

three swings.

_**"all of this is a delightful miscalculation."** _

four swings.

_**"i'll change this world into a pure and beautiful sea of blood."** _

the final swing.

he falls to the ground.

the fanfare has become a dirge.

* * *

 

 

**quattro.**

  
he will never leave them behind. he never has. they flatter him by breaking him out of captivity.

perhaps he is lonely without his playthings.

don't you dare leave me.

_**"i'll be able to work something out on my own, but with you guys tagging along, you'll just be a burden."** _

yes, that was the spirit.

* * *

 

 

**cinque.**

  
**"you fell behind to let your friends escape."**

how pitiful, misinterpreting my own actions. don't act as if you understand my motives.

* * *

 

  
**sei.**

  
he dares to bare his soul to a stranger. his consciousness, even without a body, is restless.

**"ah, it seems taking a walk has led me to something interesting."**

one-eyed, dark-haired, he knows she walks the same path as he. how convenient; good things do come after all to those who wait. none, by their own will, would choose to sleep in such a bare bed. his eyes can discern what is not real, but this time, they notice only the gaping hole that her crushed organs have been forced into.

**"perhaps you and i are the same kind of person."**

they cannot know that an idol placed lovingly upon a high shelf out of reverence can still lead a lonely and pitiful existence.

_"because there is chrome, mukuro can exist. because there is mukuro, chrome can live."_

what a happy miscalculation. he hopes that is the exact impression, the exact illusion that they are under. sometimes, the truth at face-value is the best method to conceal the honest answers that are locked away in his mind, locked away for only him to see. telling the truth can be easy too.

* * *

 

  
**sette.**

  
he wants everyone to be able to stand on their own two feet. he needs soldiers, not boys and girls. he has seen what happens to them. he has heard their cries that chafe their throats raw. he has seen plastic tubes of noxious chemicals attached to their orifices, and he has seen the anguish in their eyes. he refuses to bear any resemblance of the boy who stood before a bathroom mirror with tears streaming down his eyes.

it is horrid and punishment enough that he resembles him.

it is his fist that shatters instead of the glass. he is already too numb to feel the delicate bones shattering beneath his skin. he is too deeply engrossed in the red eye staring back at him. only the screaming of the other children is enough to remind him why there are numbers displayed across his single iris. he will not be their guinea pig.

he will be their demise and bite the hand that shoved food down his throat and squeezed it between his lips. they will all remember the day that a ten-year-old boy slaughtered a famiglia. he supposes that it is a fair enough trade. after all, he will remember the day that they murdered a flickering innocence in his heart.

* * *

 

 

**otto.**

  
"you don't seem to understand the kind of human i am. i don't consider these people whom i share emotional bonds with as comrades."

he feels safer knowing that he can control who he forcefully pushes away as opposed to what others may do to him if he lets down his guard and allows them to see into his heart.

and yet, he cannot deny that he has forged emotional bonds with them. he supposes that apathy can be an emotion too. to understand what something is not, one must understand what something is. he was only upset that his proxy was tampered with because he himself did not take kindly to being controlled.

of course not.

he would never forget what it felt like to gag against the breathing tube lodged in his trachea. he would ensure that no one else forgot. it makes a perfect channel for his wrath. how dare they be so ignorant as to tether his rage to affection.

if he was braver, he would admit that even the thought alone is enough to frighten him.

* * *

 

 

**nove.**

  
_"if we become partners, both of us can reach our goals. you take your revenge, and i am given the opportunity to eliminate the one person whose utter existence i loathe the most."_

a slight grin inches its way onto his face. now, _there's_ something that he can work with.

* * *

 

**dieci.**

  
_**"the reason you lost is because you had me as an opponent."** _

the reason the world would lose was because he would be its opponent even in this seventh realm.

he has his own body, his own legs, his own arms. he does not need a physical vessel. he left a note in deceptively elegant handwriting, beautiful calligraphy, all spelling out scathing words.

he doesn't need anyone. not in japan, not in italy, not in the future, not in the past. he fully intends on keeping it that way.

_"don't ever forget what mukuro rokudo has done to you."_


End file.
